and go to Paris, the Comte de la Fere did
by ilyawh
Summary: The King's sister, the Duchess of Savoy, was visiting Paris. The King was throwing a ball in her honor and as always, the Comte de la Fere was invited. He was quite sure that the King did not expect him to actually accept the invitation, since he had not accepted any of the dozens that had come before it. But the invitation had been sent and it was his choice whether or not to go.
1. Chapter 1

Thomas was annoying him again.

"Come on, Olivier. What would be the harm in going to Court once? I'm bored!"

"I have no wish to indulge the whims of an overgrown child, just because his father was clever enough to claim himself a throne." he responded annoyed.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You will never find a a wife to marry if you do not go out and meet new people. Our line will die out." Thomas claimed dramatically.

Yes, that was an argument his mother would have approved of. But Olivier had no wish to find himself a wife and continue the line. He was sure he would, if he tried. But he would never have any guarantee that the wife he chose would choose him for anything other than his title.

...the one time he had convinced himself that he was genuinely loved, she had turned out to be a pickpocket and a thief. Luckily his father had kept his head on his shoulders and tried to find out more about her prior to allowing the marriage to go on.

He had hated his father then and had said some harsh words. But when he came down from it, Olivier knew that he was right and thanked him for it. Had his father let him do as he pleased, he would have married Anne and God knows what would have happened. He would never forget the hateful look on her face as she left. It was then that he knew he had done the right thing. She was not a good person.

"Olivier!"

He sighed and turned towards his younger brother.

"Can we at least try to live our lives rather than just stay buried in this dreadful old place? I fear I will die an old man before I turn thirty!"

The King's sister, the Duchess of Savoy, was visiting Paris. The King was throwing a ball in her honor and as always, the Comte de la Fere was invited. He was quite sure that the King did not expect him to actually accept the invitation, since he had not accepted any of the dozens that had come before it. But the invitation had been sent and it was his choice whether or not to go.

"If you will not do it for yourself, do it for me."

No-one could ever deny Thomas anything. It was a useful gift for a second son that would not inherit much, he supposed.

...and go to Paris, the Comte de la Fere did.


	2. Chapter 2

It was scorching hot, the flies were buzzing around and even Thomas had lost his spark at his right. Olivier made the time fly by coming up with all sorts of ways of punishing his brother for convincing him to take part in this parade. And when he was done with that, he observed all the other courtiers in their outfits (as uncomfortable as his), attempting to look dignified and not notice how they were all sweaty and miserable.

Most of all, Olivier pitied the three musketeers sitting right at the front of it all. Unlike most of the courtiers, they were in the sun, and they were the only ones that had been obligated to be there. Every one of the courtiers was there to schmooze the king, except himself, who was there because his brother had gotten the better of him. But the poor musketeers were most likely the ones in the garrison that had lost a bet to be there.

The King's sister and brother in law were late and the King was obviously displeased.

"We are not accustomed to waiting" he sulked and Olivier did his best to hide the smirk that was threatening to come out.

"After five years, what's a few more minutes, your Majesty?" the Cardinal's voice showed just a hint of annoyance.

Olivier knew enough about what was happening in France to know that the Cardinal was the effective ruler. He also knew enough to know that his rule was quite efficient, despite the Cardinal's obvious unpopularity with the people. Richelieu was obviously not a man of the people, but was a good administrator and France was probably doing a lot better than it would if the King were in real charge of things.

The King sighed once more:

"It's just like the Duke to be late. He's always paraded himself as my equal, when Savoy is little else than a pimple on France's chin".

Thomas chuckled and Olivier threw him a glare to silence him. It only half-worked, because a smile remained. Obviously the boredom was so great that even the King's annoyance was entertaining.

"A strategically important pimple, Sire." the Cardinal was just a pinch more annoyed with this reply compared to his first. "The vital defense against Spanish influence on our border."

The Spanish Queen sitting at the King's left stiffened only a little and anyone less perceptive would have probably missed it.

"I'm aware of that, Cardinal." the King sighed once more. "So is the Duke. Otherwise he wouldn't..." an exceedingly dramatic sigh "...keep us standing around all day."

The carriage appeared a few minutes after that and the King straightened his slouched position in the throne. When it reached the front, he got up to welcome the newcomers.

"Victor, I trust your journey was comfortable."

The annoyance had left his voice and he was the epitome of politeness. It was what Olivier hated most about the Court: duplicity was a vital quality and he lacked it entirely.

Apparently, so did the Duke.

"Dreadful. Your French roads are full of potholes."

"But it was worth every bump and bruise to see you again." The Duchess tried to mend her husband's bluntness by kissing her brother's hand.

"I have missed you, sister." the King replied. "More than I can say."

The Duke was not perturbed and continued in the same arrogant manner.

"Cardinal Richeliu... I've seen healthier looking corpses." he chuckled. "You spend too much time at your desk."

"I assure you I'm quite robust..." the Cardinal replied.

The rest of his reply was lost when Olivier's attention was suddenly drawn to movement in a bush behind the Duke. He took a step forward but it was too late. A shot was fired and the Duke's valet dropped dead.

"Get the King to safety!" He didn't know who shouted but he felt he was the best positioned to react to that. The King seemed dumbstruck and unable to move and Olivier reached his left side and started pulling him towards the inside of the palace. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a man jump from the bush and starting to run while the musketeers were running after him.

"Everybody inside, now!" Olivier recognized Treville, the Musketeer captain, an old friend of his father's, his and Thomas' former fencing coach and mentor.

The Duke was continuing in the same rude manner he had started.

"So! You talk of peace while you plan to murder me!"

"Such accusations are wild and dangerous." The King freed himself from Olivier's hands and suddenly remembered his regal manner.

"And wholly untrue" the Cardinal also added.

"We only have your word for that and we all know the Cardinal's promises are written in water." A man who seemed to be the Duke's minister replied.

"Perhaps our cousins, the Spanish, will be more welcoming." The Duke fumed.

"My men are searching for the assassin." The Captain said. "At least delay any rash actions until we know his motives."

The Duchess of Savoy, ever the diplomat, also added: "Captain Treville is right, we must wait for the facts."

"Spoken like a true daughter of France" her husband scolded. That didn't deter her: she neared him and started speaking in a soft voice. Olivier could not hear anything and profited of the moment of quiet to check the crowd and make sure Thomas was in it. Sure enough, he was sitting in the back, looking excited.

Only Thomas could find excitement in an assassination attempt, Olivier sighed to himself. But at least he was safe.

"The shot might have hit anyone of us" the Queen's voice brought him back to the events at hand. "At such a time we should remember what unites us. We are family, after all." She smiled warmly and took the King's hand in hers.

Whatever the Duchess had said seemed to have worked.

"Savoy does not wish to be your enemy." The Duke finally said in a calmer tone. "But our trust will not be abused. If France will not guarantee our security, Spain will."

"Allow the Spanish into your country and your independence will be lost forever." the Cardinal neared the Duke at a determined pace. But his menacing tone did not help as the Duke replied sarcastically:

"Thank you. I know you have Savoy's interest close to your heart." Then he addressed the entire crowd of nobles waiting in the hall. "We will postpone signing the treaty till we establish the truth of this outrage. In the meantime I am content to accept your hospitality." Satisfied with this, he started climbing the stairs towards what Olivier assumed would be his quarters for his stay in France.

"How very gracious of you." The Cardinal muttered somewhere near Olivier.

"If we had our way, we would kick the Duke's pompous arse all the way back to his tiny and ridiculous principality." The King also muttered.

"France needs Savoy and he knows it." The Cardinal replied. "It would be a disaster for us if his country were to fall in the hands of the Spanish."

As the nobles were also evacuating the palace's hallway, Olivier turned towards his brother:

"Go to our quarters. Wait for me there."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to make sure that everything is alright."

"And how will you do that?"

"I don't know yet."

"I want to come with you."

"There's no point in both of us being in danger. As you pointed out a few days ago, our line will die out."

"You expect to be in danger?" Thomas' eyes sparkled and Olivier sighed.

"I hope not but we do have an assassin on the loose. Now go. Prepare yourself for the ball tonight."

"I am not sure there will be a ball after this."

"There is always a ball, Thomas. The rich and powerful never waste a chance to show each other how rich and powerful they are and a ball is one of the best peaceful ways to show Savoy how rich and powerful France is."

"Fine"

As soon as he made sure that Thomas was heading towards his rooms, Olivier started searching for Captain Treville. It took all of ten minutes before he spotted him in the courtyard heading for the stables.

"Captain Treville!" he shouted in a rather ungentlemanly manner that his mother would definitely not have approved of.

"Comte de la Fere. This is a surprise. I haven't seen you in Paris in a long time."

"It is my brother's doing. He seems to be suffering from boredom. I am hoping the events of today will cure him. Although judging by what I saw, it is highly unlikely."

The Captain smirked.

"How can I assist you?"

"Have your men caught the assassin?"

"I do not know yet, although I tend to think that I would have been notified if they did. I am going towards the Garrison now to discuss with them."

"Do you mind if I join you?"

The Captain showed little surprise at his request.

"You always did like to get yourself involved in everything, Comte."

"Olivier, please. Not long ago you taught me how to hold a sword. There is no reason for formality. And I do not like to get myself *involved*, but I tend to be more proactive when my life is at stake."

"I sincerely doubt it was your life they were after."

"I sincerely doubt it was the life of the valet they were after."

"Fair enough. Do you have a horse?"

Olivier picked a dark horse tied only a few feet away.

"I do now."

"Let's go." 

On the way, Olivier inquired on the three musketeers that had run after the assassin.

"Aramis and Porthos are my two best men. Aramis is very good with a rifle. Porthos has a more hands-on approach – he is good in combat. They are both very dedicated and a hundred percent loyal. I would trust them with my life."

"What about the third?"

"D'Artagnan is not a musketeer yet. He is very young and as such, impulsive. But he is a natural talent with the sword – and with the right training, he could probably beat even you."

Olivier scoffed.

"He should, if he aspires for a job defending the King."

The Captain smiled fondly.

"You were my best pupil, Olivier. Not many people can defeat you in sword-fight."

"I was your only pupil apart from Thomas and I don't think being called better than him is much of a compliment."

The Captain laughed: "All the musketeers are my pupils one way or another even if they had training prior to joining. You would beat every one of them if you were to fight them. But D'Artagnan... he would only lose because he hasn't lost his youthful impulsiveness. Once he does, he will probably beat you."

They rode in silence a few minutes more.

"Tell me, Captain, is there any chance the Cardinal was behind this?"

"I did think of that myself and I even confronted him about it before I ran into you. But he defended himself well against my accusations and I believe him."

"Why?" 

"There are things I cannot tell you, Olivier... As much as I wish to. Suffice it to say that as much as I sometimes disagree with his methods, I agree that the Cardinal's main aim is the good of France and at this point this treaty is the good of France." A small pause followed. "He asked for a musketeer guard for the Duke to keep him safe."

"...and also keep an eye on him, make sure the Duke does not forget he came here to sign a treaty."

"Nothing gets past you. Yes, that too."

It took them a few more minutes to reach the Garrison. The three men were waiting in the courtyard, without any prisoner in sight. Judging by the looks on their faces, Olivier knew there was no prisoner out of sight either. He profited from the few moments it took to reach them to take a good look.

Based on the Captain's description, the one on the left was D'Artagnan. Indeed, he was the only one lacking a fleur-de-lis on his shoulder, but he was also quite obviously very young – younger even than Thomas. He didn't even have a full beard – and obviously not because of shaving. His face was childish, radiating youthful exuberance and innocence. Remembering what the Captain had said about his sword-fighting skills, Olivier couldn't help but wonder where he had had the chance to grasp them.

In the center stood a large man, slightly darker-skinned than the others (some coloured heritage, he supposed) – Olivier guessed him to be Porthos. He looked the embodiment of strength and seemed to be as much of an open book as D'Artagnan. Near him on the right, sat the third musketeer (Aramis, the Captain had said – where did these people get their names?). He was an elegant man, the kind you would more expect to find in the ballroom rather than the musketeer garrison, and Olivier told himself to watch out for him most of all. The other two seemed rather incapable of deceit, or at the very least bad at it, but this man was a different sort. On top of that, he looked troubled.

All three threw him a short curious look but did not bother much with him. The Captain nodded towards his room and they all followed. Olivier followed last, closed the door behind them and sat himself in the shadows, watching them all carefully.

"How in God's name did he escape?!" Olivier watched their faces as Captain Treville shouted. Athos and D'Artagnan lowered their heads while Porthos kept his up. Interesting.

"We lost him in the grounds" Porthos said.

"He just... uh... got away" Aramis mumbled. He was so obviously lying that Olivier couldn't help but rewrite his previous conclusions. He was also incredibly bad at deceit.

"Didn't you see him either?" The Captain's gaze fixed on D'Artagnan. He most likely blushed, by the way his expression changed, but his tanned skin and the darker room helped conceal that.

"I... um... slipped." he said unconvincingly, also quite obviously lying. Olivier noticed Porthos' fleeting look of surprise, a look he attempted to hide by looking towards the window. Also interesting. The boy was lying, Porthos had just become aware of him lying, yet he stood there not saying anything. Either they all knew something they didn't want to say at the present moment or they had a bond that went beyond their loyalty to Captain Treville, which was something that could turn into a potentially dangerous situation.

"You slipped?" The Captain asked with a dose of incredulity.

"Wet grass..." D'Artagnan mumbled.

The Captain was obviously making efforts to keep calm: "There's a killer on the loose. The security of the nation hangs by a thread." He walked towards D'Artagnan and stared him down: "But at least little D'Artagnan didn't get a nasty bruise."

Porthos looked amused but was obviously trying to conceal it. Aramis' expression remained constant and D'Artagnan looked quite guilty.

"Porthos, Aramis, report to the Palace in the morning." Captain Treville said after finishing with his menacing glare. "As long as the Duke is in France, his safety is now your responsibility."

Olivier couldn't help but notice the darkened look on Aramis' face. He suddenly got a feeling that the Duke would not be very safe with Aramis so he finally decided to intervene.

"Captain..." he said nonchalantly. "I believe the Duke would be... better disposed... towards a guard that was... let's say, closer to him in station."

All four men had turned to him with surprised looks. He was pretty sure they had all forgotten he was there so he rose from his spot and came towards them in the center of the room.

"What are you suggesting?" Captain Treville asked.

"I am suggesting, of course, that I intermediate between the two musketeers that are to guard the Duke and the Duke himself. As you mentioned earlier, I am quite decent with a sword, so I understand the security side of things, but I am also a noble, so I am, let's say, better equipped, to discuss with a person of royal blood."

"The assassin is still out there somewhere, Olivier. You would be quite in danger."

"I am willing to take that risk."

He felt more than he saw how the three men were suddenly sizing him up. He knew he didn't look like much of soldier, dressed in courtier's clothes (as he hadn't had time to change in anything more appropriate), but he didn't feel disadvantaged by that. He would have the opportunity to gain their respect.

"Fine" The Captain said, and the three musketeers' mouths were wide open for little over a second. They threw each other a look and just nodded towards their Captain who continued:

"Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan, this is Olivier de la Fere. He will assist you two" he pointed towards Porthos and Aramis "in guarding the Duke. You" he looked at D'Artagnan "should practice your skill to run without slipping."

D'Artagnan had the sense to look guilty again. After a second of pause, all musketeers turned towards the door and walked.

Olivier followed them.

The more he thought of it, the better the idea seemed. At the moment it had been an impulsive offer, but now he realized that Captain Treville needed a man to infiltrate these three and he didn't have anyone else to suggest but himself. Something was happening, something they weren't saying, and the Captain had not asked what, although Olivier was quite sure he wasn't gullible enough to buy their explanations. He wondered whether Captain Treville's trust in his men didn't blind him towards their intentions.

Then he decided to go with the Captain's instinct and trust that what they were hiding was not treacherous or evil so he went for the full-on honest approach.

"You're hiding something" he stated in his courtier voice, nonchalant, calm stating a matter of fact rather than asking.

They were just getting out the gates and they stopped to stare at him. Since they hadn't had any time to discuss, just the three of them, he was pretty sure Porthos was out of the loop, so he kept his eyes on Aramis and D'Artagnan. They were probably starting to realize that he was *not* an imbecile courtier.

After a moment's pause, Aramis answered:

"No idea what you mean."

Olivier turned to D'Artagnan.

"You too. What is it?"

D'Artagnan looked like a scared rabbit as he threw a look at Aramis who was trying to mask his discomfort by fidgeting with his hat. The young musketeer-to-be then looked at Olivier, as if trying to judge whether he was worthy of his trust or not.

After a few rather tense moments, D'Artagnan decided to speak:

"If you don't tell them, I will."

"Tell us what?" Porthos finally decided to speak.

Aramis was obviously against the idea, so Olivier turned his eyes back at D'Artagnan, who seemed utterly incapable of keeping a secret.

As D'Artagnan breathed in to speak, Aramis intervened:

"D'Artagnan! We do not know this man!"

"Treville obviously trusts him." D'Artagnan replied. "He trusted him to be in his meeting with us and then he trusted him to assist you in guarding the Duke!"

"He also trusts you three" Olivier stated again, keeping the calm but imposing manner he usually had when trying to convince his villagers whenever he had an idea they didn't like. "He trusts you enough to let you out of that room, despite the fact that you were obviously lying about something. If someone would trust me like that, I would be quite ashamed to lie to them."

The guilty look returned on D'Artagnan's face and Olivier knew he had him, but he pushed a little further:

"I will not discuss with the Captain whatever you are telling me. You have my word. However, since my life is also at stake in this matter, I would prefer to walk into the situation prepared. And I am sure your friend Porthos would too."

He, of course, knew about the massacre of Savoy. It had happened around the time of his dealings with Anne, and he had come to Paris straight after, in a desperate attempt to get her out of his mind. It had been quite a shock to the King and his nobles to find that twenty musketeers (technically the best fighters in the country, responsible for the King's life, no less) were so easily taken down. He hadn't known that someone escaped, but now that he knew, he understood why Aramis was troubled. It had less to do with treachery and more to do with remembering dark times.

At the time everyone had assumed that it had been the Spanish who had carried out the attack, but he supposed it would have been even easier for the Duke of Savoy to do it, since he was much closer.

After listening to everything D'Artagnan had to say, Olivier turned to Aramis:

"You understand that after finding this out, I cannot in good conscience let you be in charge of guarding the Duke."

A flicker of anger crossed Aramis' soft features.

"I am quite capable of doing the job my Captain asked."

"I do not doubt for a second that you are. But I would prefer it if you did not."

"How would you explain this to Treville?" Porthos asked.

"Three people are a little much. The Duke may feel a little crowded." He shrugged.

"But you are Comte. It is not your job to defend anyone...!"

"I am perfectly capable of doing it, nevertheless. And if I am not, you are." Olivier said decidedly. "I will discuss it with the Captain tonight. In the meantime, I need to see Marsac."

Aramis and D'Artagnan threw a shocked look at him. He maintained his stance unperturbed:

"I need to know what I am getting myself into. And for that I need to see him for myself."

Olivier rarely made instant decisions about people but he decided he liked Constance Bonacieux the instant he saw her flare in what his mother would have called an unladylike manner.

"You brought a wanted man into my house?! A deserter?!"

"Deserter and assassin" he felt the need to point out.

"I'm guessing they didn't mention that part" Porthos added. Olivier kept his smile to himself.

"Failed assassin, technically" Marsac intervened and Olivier rolled his eyes.

"You can keep quiet! I don't want to know!" Constance shut him up instantly and turned to D'Artagnan. "I trusted you."

"D'Artagnan's not to blame" Aramis stated. "He behaved with honour."

"Honourable people don't lie to their friends!"

"Apologies for the deception, milady, I will leave immediately." Marsac attempted to rise.

"You can stay." Constance said. "But you," she turned back to D'Artagnan "you can pack your things."

"That hardly seems fair!" D'Artagnan exclaimed childishly but the door was slammed in his face.

"She'll forgive you. Just give her time." Aramis somehow found it in himself to be gallant.

"How much time?" D'Artagnan sulked.

"Ah, a decade or two maybe" Porthos smiled at his friend. Olivier was amused by their interaction and found himself longing for a friendship such as theirs. He wondered how it had formed, since to his knowledge, D'Artagnan was quite a recent addition to their group.

But then he remembered why they were all there and the Comte in him awoke again.

"Have you both completely lost your minds?"

"The gentleman obviously does not care about twenty dead musketeers" Marsac stated. Olivier matched the man's arrogance with his own:

"Insulting the man who holds your life in his hands. I see you are a fool as well as a coward." he stated coldly.

Marsac instantly rose to his feet and Olivier was only a second behind him. To his surprise, it was Aramis who intervened and stopped them:

"Just hear him out. If you're not satisfied..." he paused for a second and then continued "I'll do whatever you suggest."

Olivier and Marsac glared at each other for a few seconds before withdrawing their aggressive stances. Marsac then spoke:

"There's somebody you should speak to, first."

"I found him in a bar, drunk and bragging about killing musketeers" Marsac said as he led them to a basement where a man was tied up to his hands, hanging from the ceiling. The former musketeer punched the prisoner a couple of times and then urged him to speak.

"Easy..." Porthos tried to calm him down. "He can't talk if he's out cold."

The prisoner spoke with difficulty about how the Duke of Savoy had attacked the musketeers training on his lands, because he believed they had come to kill him and put his son (the son of a Princess of France) in his place. He obviously drew great satisfaction from his story, which in turn served to annoy both Marsac and Aramis and led to a few more punches being thrown.

"Wait! Wait!" The prisoner tried to stop them. "I'll tell you who gave the Duke this information."

At this point Olivier interfered and dragged Marsac away.

"I overheard him and his Chancellor, Cluzet, discussing his name."

"What name did you hear?" Aramis asked. "Who betrayed the musketeers?"

"Treville. It was a Captain Treville."

"Treville. It would make sense. Every man has his price." Marsac spit.

"You take that back!" Porthos shouted in anger but before he managed to strike, Olivier stopped him:

"Gentlemen... Gentlemen..." he pointed towards a more secluded spot and the four of them headed there, leaving Marsac with the prisoner.

"The Captain?" D'Artagnan whispered. "A traitor who would organize the murder of his own men?"

Olivier knew that it wasn't true because he had been in Paris when the news came and he had seen how the news had hit Captain Treville. D'Artagnan and Porthos obviously agreed with him:

"It's impossible."

"He's lying."

"But how did the Duke find us so easily? Someone had to tell him" Aramis said. "Someone who knew our orders. It was Treville who issued them."

While the three were arguing, Olivier's attention was drawn back to the prisoner. He was saying something to Marsac. He obviously had a death wish, since whatever he was saying did not create pleasant reactions. He moved to stop Marsac, but it was too late. By the time he reached them, the prisoner was dead, and with him any chance of clarifying the issue via further questioning.

"Treville is a patriot. A man of honour. The charges against him are ridiculous!" D'Artagnan spoke angrily as they were headed back towards Madame Bonacieux' place.

"Wild accusations without proof" Olivier stated calmly. He had tried to let them express themselves and allow them to feel free to not censor their thoughts. It was working surprisingly well, considering they had just met and what was really surprising was that he himself did not feel the need to censor his thoughts. He did not trust Marsac, but Captain Treville said he would trust the three with his life and Olivier felt inclined to agree.

"Then we'll find proof!" Marsac said.

"There's no *we* here" Porthos pointed out.

"Aramis, you were there. You saw the butchered bodies!" Aramis stopped cold.

"You don't need to remind me." he said, teeth clenched. But then he stopped. "But Olivier is right. There is no proof."

"I want revenge!"

"I want..." Aramis paused. "Justice."

"This is the captain we are talking about" Porthos said.

"Which is why we owe it to him to clear his name" Aramis replied without missing a beat.

"So really we'd be doing him a favour" D'Artagnan stated dubiously. Aramis looked troubled while D'Artagnan continued: "Let's hope he sees it that way."

"This is not your business. You're not even a musketeer." Marsac said.

"Apparently neither are you" D'Artagnan quipped and Marsac again jumped to strike. Olivier trusted him less and less – in a few hours he had attempted fighting with three of the four men that were guarding him. Not a very clever character, obviously.

Porthos stopped it this time: "Don't go there. Not if you enjoy breathing."

Once things settled, Aramis said decisively:

"I have to know the truth."

"I don't believe Captain Treville is guilty and I never will." Olivier said. "But we won't stand in your way". He paused for a little, checking for a reaction from Porthos and D'Artagnan to his speaking in their name but there was none. "Do what you have to do" he continued.

Aramis looked content with that.

"One condition." Olivier finally said. "Marsac stays under house arrest."

Almost instantly, Porthos grabbed Marsac's arm and started carrying him towards the Bonacieux house. Olivier once again wondered at how easily he was obeyed.

Just as they were leaving Aramis said:

"During the massacre I wounded their leader. A cut across the back. If it was the Duke who led the attack, he'll still carry a scar."

At this, Olivier felt the need to say something else so he got close to Aramis, enough so that none of the others hear and said:

"Aramis. Before we go down this road, ask yourself one question: If it is true, what then?"

And then they went their separate ways.

"It must be just me and Porthos protecting the Duke." Olivier said to the Captain as he visited him after dropping off Marsac and D'Artagnan at the Bonacieux.

"Why?"

"Aramis was in the massacre of Savoy. He is a loyal man, but we all have our weaknesses, and this is his. Such a thing can haunt a man forever."

Captain Treville nodded:

"You can take D'Artagnan instead."

"No, he is too young. Porthos is enough. He is strong and reliable."

The Captiain watched him with a mysterious smile:

"Why do you lock yourself up in the country, Olivier? Your skills are wasted."

Olivier sighed.

"I am where I am needed. Up until today I did not know I was needed here."

"Would you consider a more permanent position in defending the King when this is over?"

A long pause.

"It helps deflect the boredom... takes your mind of... things."

He had never discussed Anne with the Captain but from this he suddenly became certain that his father had.

"Let us see how this fares before we make any other plans." He said cautiously.

He reached his quarters just in time to see Thomas all dressed up for the ball.

The ball. He had forgotten all about the ball.

"Olivier! Where have you been?"

"I was with Captain Treville."

"How is the good old Captain?"

"He is quite well. Organizing a defense for the Duke."

It wasn't often that he hid things from Thomas. He felt a pang of guilt.

"Well, I hope he does it well. I mean to enjoy the ball tonight. You are joining, right?"

"Of course. Just give me twenty minutes."

"The Comte de la Fere and his brother, Thomas de la Fere!"

He would never get used to this. The life that the Captain was suggesting, fights, surrounded by honest soldiers, was much more appealing to him than this... masquerade.

"Monsieur le Comte" the Cardinal approached him and Olivier nodded.

"Cardinal."

"I understand from Captain Treville that you have offered yourself to be responsible for the Duke's protection."

He ignored Thomas' surprised reaction.

"I did. I felt the Duke would respond better to a man of nobility."

"It is not the Duke's comfort that I am concerned with, it is his safety."

"I can hold my own with a sword."

"So the Captain said..." the Cardinal eyed him. Thomas enthusiastically intervened:

"Olivier is the best swordsman in the whole of France. Any man would be lucky to be protected by him."

Olivier rolled his eyes but made no attempt to deny it.

The Cardinal shrugged:

"Very well. This may turn out to our advantage."

"A musketeer and a French Comte to protect me? It's like being protected by wolves!" The Duke of Savoy was his usual blunt self that morning.

Olivier had come in a more fighting-appropriate apparel, although he kept his clothes on the expensive side, to outline his nobility.

"Have you captured the man who tried to kill me?" The Duke continued.

"We shouldn't allow ourselves to be distracted by minor issues" The Cardinal stated, in a rather tactless manner.

"My life may be a minor issue to you, Cardinal, but not to me."

"You came to Paris to sign the treaty! Further delay is in no-one's interest."

The Duke of Savoy approached Olivier and Porthos and studied them.

"I will fight a duel..." he started slowly "...with this man." He pointed to Olivier. "If he wins, then we discuss the treaty. But if I triumph then I return home immediately."

Olivier threw a look at the Captain who nodded, at which point he started taking off his jacket and his pistol, leaving them to Porthos.

"Sorry, I assumed you were joking!" The incredulous voice of the Cardinal was heard in the background.

At the Duke's lack of reply, the Cardinal hurried to him:

"Will you win?"

"The Comte is the best swordsman I have ever met." Captain Treville stated behind him. Near him, Olivier saw Porthos' eyebrows rise at the statement.

"That's not what I asked." the Cardinal pointed. No-one deigned him with a reply.

While he was getting ready, Olivier also heard the King quietly voice his concern. He hadn't been in a duel in a while, but he had practiced and the Captain seemed to trust him. He flickered his sword a couple of times, to warm up his wrist and went to face the Duke.

"He who draws blood first is the winner...?" the Duke asked. Olivier did not answer, he just placed himself in the starting position.

The Duke was a good fighter, he could tell from the start. He used his massive frame to impose himself – and even managed to issue a punch that almost drew blood. But Olivier was quicker and managed to escape each blow with skill. He heard exclamations from the sidelines, but never bothered to check who made them – he was too focused on the fight. The floor was slippery and he fell when the Duke pushed him down with his sword. At that point he became angry and rose decidedly to his feet, striking with increasing strength. After parring a few blows, he started attacking and decided to use the slippery floor himself, pushing the Duke at the King's feet. The Duke made a half-hearted attempt to lift his sword, but Oliver simply threw it away with his and pointed it at the Duke's chest. He had obviously won, but found his anger still there as he realized that he was probably staring at a man who dishonourably attacked and killed twenty men in their sleep. He kept his sword pointed at the Duke's chest until Captain Treville shouted:

"Olivier!"

It was that that brought him back to his normal self and he calmly drew blood scratching the Duke's chest.

"Shall we say 9 o'clock in the morning?" The Cardinal asked nonchalantly. The Duke rose to his feet, nodded and left.

Olivier went back towards his usual spot, only to see Porthos grinning wildly.

"Well done" Porthos said, and Olivier knew that he had won his admiration. "I'm glad it was you. I would have cut his bloody head off."

The Captain reached him from behind: "Your duty was to win, not to start a war! You could have defeated him in a way that allowed him his dignity. Go and apologize!"

At that, Olivier threw him a cold look. Captain Treville paused.

"It is my recommendation, Monsieur le Comte, that you offer an apology to the Duke, if you still want him to trust you with his protection."

Olivier nodded and headed towards the Duke's quarters. As he approached, he heard the Duke's voice.

"...If he's been lying all these years about Cluzet's disappearance..."

"I have news" the councilor said but the Duke stopped him and looked at Olivier who had installed himself in the door. It was then that he noticed that the Duke was not wearing his shirt – he was tending to the scratch he had just gotten.

"Monsieur le Comte. How can I help you?"

"I have come to apologize. I was... overzealous."

The Duke approached and sized him up:

"You won a fair fight."

A pause. The Duke turned his back and headed towards the bed where a fresh shirt awaited. His back was crossed by a long scar and Olivier cringed.

"You wanted to kill me. I saw it in your eyes. Why?"

"You are mistaken." Pause. " What motive could a French soldier possibly have... for wanting to kill the Duke of Savoy?"

It didn't seem to strike a chord and that stirred even more anger inside him. He bowed and left.

Porthos was waiting outside the room.

"Did you hear all that?" Olivier asked.

"I saw the scar too. Marsac was right about the Duke."

"That doesn't mean he's right about the Captain. Perhaps we should spy a little on the Duke and his councilor and find out what they really know."

Porthos went to spy on Gontard, the Duke's councilor, while Olivier went to discuss with the others in regards to what he had discovered. D'Artagnan was happy – apparently he was back in Constance's good graces. Aramis had made discoveries of his own: apparently the night of the attack was not documented in any of Treville's papers.

"Perhaps you just didn't find it" D'Artagnan suggested.

"His filing is meticulous. There's nothing there. The documents have either been removed or destroyed."

"I'm still confident there's a perfectly good explanation." D'Artagnan insisted. Olivier felt the need to also mention:

"I admit, it's troubling, but I agree with D'Artagnan."

"So you're content with doing nothing? How much evidence do you need that something is badly wrong? What does it take to make you believe..."

"I will never believe the Captain was a traitor" Olivier cut him short.

"You think I want to?"

"Let me help" Marsac said. "I give my word as a gentleman that I won't try to leave. Aramis, tell them. You know me."

"I used to."

"Every word I have told you has turned out to be the truth! Why would I deceive you now?"

Aramis threw a look at Olivier. Olivier still didn't trust Marsac but at this point he was still on shaky ground with Aramis' trust, so he decided to put his own feelings aside for the greater good. He took his dagger and cut the rope holding Marsac's hands together.

After Marsac left he turned to Aramis and D'Artagnan. "Porthos is waiting for us at the garrison. Let's go there and while we're at it, we will discuss with the Captain."

The Captain's reaction was not what he had hoped.

"Get back to your posts before I lose my temper" he said. He was angry and, although Olivier had let the others talk while lurking in the background, it was at him that the Captain stared as he left. His eyes conveyed disappointment and Olivier felt like he had betrayed his mentor.

"You knew it was the Duke!" Aramis insisted and followed the Captain inside. The other three had no choice but to also follow.

"I am not accountable to you!"

"But you are to the men who died."

"Be careful, Aramis. You are in dangerous territory."

"Not as dangerous as Savoy was to your men." Porthos said.

"I am going to put this down to a fit of temporary insanity. Leave now and we'll say no more about it."

"How did our orders get into the Duke's hands? Who told them where we were camping? Why did he think we were coming to attack him...?"

"ENOUGH!" The Captain yelled.

"Who killed those musketeers and why?!" Aramis shouted. Olivier had known him for only a short while, but he was pretty sure such insolence and nerve were out of his character.

"Who have you been speaking to?"

"It doesn't matter" Olivier finally joined the conversation. "What matters is the truth."

"Aramis, Porthos, D'Artagnan. Leave. Now. And I'll spare you a Court Martial."

The three looked at him as if waiting for confirmation. He nodded. To his astonishment, even Aramis followed the other two out.

The Captain waited until their steps were heard further and further and turned to him:

"What are you doing?"

"I did not lead this investigation. They would have reached their conclusions with or without me. I have told them over and over again that I do not believe you guilty but the fact is that the situation looks very dubious and what you just did did not help at all.

"Guilty of what...?"

"There was a man that claimed that you betrayed the musketeers to the Duke."

The Captain sighed as he fell back into his chair.

"Captain. Whatever you did, you did for the good of France. I will not ask because you already told me once that it is not my business to know. But if you want to retain the loyalty of your men, an explanation must be offered. If you cannot offer the truth, you must think of a plausible lie."

"It is not in my nature to lie, Olivier."

Olivier decided to leave it at that and left back towards the Palace. He found Thomas flirting with a couple of maids and decidedly threw them out of the room:

"Is this the way you mean to continue our line?"

"It is not my job to do so, Olivier, it is yours. You are the Comte. I am merely a younger son and younger brother of a Comte. I am apparently not even good enough to know what a Comte is doing with his time."

Olivier sat down on the bed.

"I apologize, Thomas. As the Captain says, it is my instinct to just jump into every situation, and this one was more complex than I expected."

"Is there really nothing I can do to help?"

The initial reaction was a refusal. But then...

"...are any of those maids you were... talking to... also serving the Cardinal?"

"...Richelieu?"

"...yes, of course Richelieu, what other Cardinal could I possibly mean?"

"I believe so."

"I may need to discuss with him."

"This is highly irregular Monsieur le Comte! Why could you not visit me in my quarters?" the Cardinal's voice whispered in the dark.

"I am sorry, sir. I did not wish to inconvenience you. As I am in charge of the Duke's guard, being seen in your company may leave the impression that I am reporting to you, which may in turn affect the Duke's trust in me."

"What is the matter?"

"Five years ago, a company of twenty-two musketeers went for a training exercise in Savoy. They were attacked while they were sleeping. Twenty died. I have seen sufficient evidence to convince me that the attack was led by the Duke of Savoy."

He paused, allowing the Cardinal time to say something but he chose not to.

"It seems he reached the conclusion that they were there to kill him and replace him with his son."

He still did not reply.

"One of the two men who escaped is still a musketeer, one of the finest in the regiment. He is quite determined to find out the truth. I am sure that there are politics behind what happened that we cannot begin to grasp. But this man has seen twenty of his friends die and he will not rest until he finds an explanation. He and his friends have already followed the Duke's councilor in a few dubious encounters..."

"...dubious? What do you mean by dubious?"

"Mr Gontard was seen in a lowly tavern, meeting a prison guard."

The Cardinal's eyes widened.

"I do not know what any of this means. What I do know is that unless an explanation is offered, he will draw his own conclusions and you may not like them. My recommendation is to satisfy his curiosity as soon as possible, while he is still open to listening."

The Cardinal nodded.

"Thank you Monsieur le Comte, for bringing this to my attention. You are a loyal servant of France and the King."

Olivier nodded and turned to go.

"Monsieur le Comte." the Cardinal stopped him.

"Cardinal."

"You are a magnificent swordsman. You also seem to be wise, were accepted as leader of musketeers without being one yourself, in a matter of days and also seem to know a thing or two about strategy."

Olivier waited for the Cardinal to continue.

"I would say we need more men like you at the Court. Please let me know if there is anything I can say to convince you to remain even after the Duke and Duchess have left for Savoy."

Olivier blinked.

"I will consider it, Cardinal. Thank you."

The next day, he met up with Porthos at the entrance to the Duke's quarters.

"The Captain has called Aramis in to discuss. He even apologized to me and D'Artagnan for threatening Court Martial."

"Do you not feel dismayed that he did not call you?"

"No. This is Aramis' business. If Aramis is satisfied with the explanation, I do not need to know it."

Olivier smiled.

"I have a feeling this is related to you somehow although I cannot prove it."

There was no time for answer. The Duke exited his quarters nervously and stared at the two men.

"I need to see the Cardinal."

"Of course, Sir. Follow me." Olivier said with courtesy.

What followed was a mumbled mess that he did not wish to make sense of. The Duke insisted they visited the prisons. The Cardinal protested but only weakly and in the end the Duke, after visiting a few cells, apologized and decided to sign the treaty. Next to him, his loyal Duchess smiled happily. France and Savoy were at peace.

When they reached the Garrison, however, they found Aramis broken. D'Artagnan was sitting next to him wordlessly.

"What happened?" Porthos asked.

"I killed him." Aramis almost cried.

Panic ensued for a second.

"Why?" Olivier kept his voice as calm as possible, while at the same time trying to assess the situation and its possible consequences.

"He came to kill the Captain. The Captain explained. He was misled. I cannot tell you. He was misled. But Marsac... he didn't believe it. I did. So I killed him."

Relief.

"You killed Marsac."

"Yes. He was my friend." Aramis stared at him with empty eyes.

There was nothing that could be said except one thing.

"He was not your only friend, Aramis."

A small flicker in Aramis' eyes showed that his words did not go unregistered.

"Thomas!"

"Olivier! You are back early"

"I am. The Duke is leaving and will no longer require my services. Besides, the assassin was caught and killed."

"Wonderful! A job well done! Does this mean we are going back to the country?"

"No I do not think we will. Tell me, is our Paris house still in a decent state, do you know?"

Thomas grinned from ear to ear.


End file.
